


Son of The Fox

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [57]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU of Blue on Blue, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: As Spike plays a dangerous game, struggling to protect Natalie Braddock and alert his team at the same time, he spots a semi-familiar figure in the room.  When Fleming’s threat to Natalie escalates, Spike’s unexpected backup makes his move, ending the hot call and exposing a secret kept since Grindelwald’s War.  AU of Blue on Blue
Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/538363
Comments: 28
Kudos: 14





	1. Team One’s New Language

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for 04x15: Blue on Blue. Pretty much the entire episode. And I am using dialogue from the episode. This story is the fifty-seventh in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Bang Bang You're Dead".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Two black trucks raced down the road, sirens wailing as they slid into one final turn to arrive at their destination. Five men and one woman scrambled out of the trucks, collecting their gear before running inside the imposing white two story building. The stone wall in front of the entrance declared their location to be the Metro Evidence Depot, one of the most secure locations in the whole of Toronto.

Inside, the facility’s white-haired commander led the officers into the surveillance room. The surveillance camera feeds, usually crisp and easy to see, were now blurred and useless. Static flicked through the images and even the cameras’ locations was nearly impossible to determine, never mind what they were capturing.

“What are we looking at here?” Constable Ed Lane demanded.

Behind him, Jules observed, “System’s gone haywire.”

“It’s been hacked,” the commander announced grimly. “Alarm’s on a perpetual loop. You don’t even know what it’s flagging.”

Sergeant Parker turned from his evaluation of the facility’s map, keyed to the alarms, but now just as useless as the surveillance. “Most secure building in the city, Eddie, and someone just cracked it open like a science project.”

Kilometers away, a raven-haired man typed away at the computer in front of him, ignoring the sting of pain from his lower lip and mouth. Red traced an angled line on his mouth, evidence of where he’d been struck by the brunet looming over his shoulder and watching the computer monitor.

“This had better work,” the brunet growled.

Determination filled dark eyes as Constable Michelangelo ‘Spike’ Scarlatti lifted his head. “You do what I tell you. They won’t even know what hit them.” Then he returned his attention to the computer, fingers flying as he typed in his next command.

* * * * *

_7 hours earlier_

Greg Parker slunk into the SRU locker room, head down and shame burning hot within him. How could he have _done_ that? _Why_ had he done that? No one was inside the room, a fact he gave thanks for. Time enough to regain his composure and stitch his mask back together. Time enough to bury the shame for what he’d done to his _team_.

Another part of him protested. It had just been _one_ magical order – and _besides_ , all it had done was give his team a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?

Parker snarled at that corner of his mind. Wasn’t that _bad_? _Any_ use of his ability to _override_ his team’s free will was a step too far. It was _wrong_ , it _violated_ his team’s right to choose, smacking of the _gryphon’s_ attitude towards his friends. He’d _sworn_ he would _never_ use that ability, _never_ overrule his teammates _ever_ again – getting rid of that _taint_ had been an extraordinary circumstance, demanding his intervention, and he _still_ hated himself for doing it.

Only to find the magical orders slipping free, eyes blazing with power as he commanded them, forcing them not only head for bed early, but keeping them asleep until dawn – or until their alarms went off. He’d scrambled to countermand the orders as soon as he finished, but something had wrapped around him – not a word of the intended counter orders had been spoken. He just… _couldn’t_. No matter how much he hated himself, no matter how loudly he screamed at himself to just _do it_. Let them go, let them _choose_. He couldn’t.

Greg rested his forehead against the cool metal of his locker door, savage hatred bubbling. What he’d done, what he was _doing_ , it couldn’t be undone. Couldn’t be taken back. Nor could he confess what he’d done – they’d fallen asleep too quickly, none of them even _remembered_ his orders. No, he just had to live with the shame and the guilt. Even as he swore once again he would _never_ abuse them again. Firmly, he reached inwards, forcing the ‘team sense’ off.

The links were permanent, they would last the rest of his life. But that didn’t mean he had to _use_ them. _Abuse_ them. Before, he hadn’t had a choice, not if he wanted to control his own senses. Now he did – and now, he needed to stop. He needed to stop and he needed to let his people go; enough was enough.

Deep within, the part of himself that would always be a young, friendless child whimpered, longing for the reassurance and comfort that had been part and parcel of his ‘team sense’. He ignored the jab of loneliness; that was the _least_ of what he deserved.

* * * * *

Parker kept his head down as the locker room door swung open, admitting his team leader. Shame burbled, slinking through his chest and oozing around his heart. His usual morning greeting rose, only to be stifled by that shame. Instead, the Sergeant focused on changing into his uniform, pretending preoccupation as he double-checked his boots.

**“Something wrong,** Gregórius?”

Greg froze, feeling his jaw fall open as his head came up and stunned hazel stared back at him from the tiny mirror in his locker. Had he…really _heard_ that?

“Gregórius? **You okay?”**

He snapped around, teeth clicking as he forced his lower jaw back in place, but nothing could hide the shock. His team leader stared back, bemused by his expression.

**“What?”**

The lie came easier than he’d expected as his mind ground into overdrive. “I’m fine, Ed. You?”

Ed shrugged. **“Can’t complain. Slept like a log last night; that was nice.”**

Inwardly, Greg cringed.

**“ ‘Course then** Sophie **wakes me up this morning, telling me _I_ have to change **Izzy **since I got to sleep right through her screaming.”**

Greg cringed again, but Ed didn’t notice as he turned to his own locker, pulling out his uniform to begin changing. “I thought it was getting better between you two, Eddie.” Somehow his tone stayed calm. Nonchalant.

**“It is,** Þegen,” Ed replied. **“I mean, there’s still a few rough patches, but nothing like before.”**

“That’s good to hear.” Interesting, Greg mused, letting his mind sort through the clues as he put his civilian clothing in his locker. Spike had called him ‘Þegen’, but not ‘Gregórius’. Had Eddie come up with that all on his own? “Sophie mention anything else this morning?”

**“No, why?”**

Greg resisted the urge to bang his head on his locker. How was Eddie not _hearing_ himself? How was he _not_ realizing he wasn’t speaking English? Clearly, he still _understood_ English…

“Gregórius? **Something wrong with you? You’re acting kinda odd.”**

Hazel bulged. _He_ was acting odd? Okay, enough was enough. “Eddie?”

**“Yeah?”**

“Could you stop calling me Gregórius?” Annoyance flashed as the Sergeant turned to meet his team leader’s gaze. “It’s _Greg_.” Or Gregory, but definitely _not_ Gregórius.

Ed stared at him a moment and Greg _saw_ the instant it clicked. _Saw_ the instant Ed realized he was speaking in a totally different language. Then panic set in. **“What the heck? Why didn’t** Sophie **say something?** Þegen, **I’m telling you, this _just_ happened and…”** Blue eyes widened and Greg caught the telltale signs of his friend’s sniper training kicking in to control his breathing. “Gregórius, **what do I do? I can’t even _talk_ to anyone like this.”**

Greg gestured for quiet and the other’s jaw snapped shut. “Ed, you can still understand English,” he pointed out. “I haven’t switched to Narnian at all since you walked in.” Rubbing his chin, Parker added, “And I bet you were speaking English just fine with Sophie. Otherwise, she’d’ve taken your head off.” _Or mine._ “So just switch back.”

“Just like that? It’s that easy, Greg?” Sarcasm rang.

“Yeah, Eddie, it really is.” The Sergeant didn’t bother to hide his smirk as Ed registered he’d swapped languages without missing a beat.

Ed leaned back against the row of lockers, breathing hard. “Greg, that was…that was…”

“Unexpected.”

A bitter bark. “Yeah. That.”

* * * * *

It wasn’t just Ed, either. Greg quietly parked himself in the locker room as his teammates flowed in, all of them chattering in Narnian without even noticing. How? Wordy and Spike – they were understandable. _They_ at least had been affected by that serial killer’s Old Religion spell. The _rest_ of his team had not, so how was it that they were _all_ speaking Narnian as if they’d grown up knowing it?

“Morning, guys.” Turning his head, Greg cast Ed a significant glance; the team leader nodded and vanished to deal with Jules.

The constables returned his greeting, though Spike frowned, tilting his head to the side.

**“We’ve got that escort today, right,** Þegen?” Sam asked, craning his neck around from his spot.

“That’s right, Sam,” Greg agreed easily, keeping his peripheral attention on Spike, even as he met Sam’s gaze.

Spike’s eyes widened in alarm. “Boss?” he demanded, then slumped in open relief.

“Scéaþ?” Lou questioned, confusion ringing. **“What’s wrong?”**

Spike opened his mouth, but Wordy beat him to it. “Guys, Englisc. You’re speaking _Narnian_.”

“So were you, Wordy,” Greg pointed out as realization swept his other constables.

“And me,” Spike admitted softly.

“Spike.” When the bomb tech glanced up, Greg informed him, “You caught on quicker than Ed did. Must be all that practice you’ve had.”

As Spike beamed at the praise, Greg turned to the rest of his team. “All right, if all of _you_ know Narnian, I’m betting Jules does, too.” He considered, then shrugged. “Hands up if you want this to stay in team only.”

He really wasn’t surprised when every hand went up. “Okay. I can do that.”

* * * * *

By the time Greg reached the briefing room, Ed had already broken Jules out of the Narnian and back into English. Greg inclined his head to both in approval, ignoring the slight chagrin on Jules’ face. It was hardly _Jules’_ fault that she – and every _other_ member of his team – had woken up knowing a completely new language. Curious, though, how’d they’d all fallen into using it so _naturally_ , switching back to English without any of the stumbles Spike had gone through. And even Spike appeared more comfortable with Narnian in the wake of…whatever this was – though Greg had already decided to keep his eyes open for any slips.

With the immediate trouble dealt with, Greg turned his attention to their main task for the shift – the Karl Morse escort job. The Sergeant sorted through the paperwork, absently waving Ed over to point a few final details out. As the two men finalized their plans, Greg’s keen sense of hearing caught the fringes of the nearby discussion, the team effortlessly swapping between English and Narnian without so much as a pause.

A sense of pride thrummed at their easy acceptance of their newest talent. Then shame bubbled up as he registered the _other_ topic of discussion. The night before – the _early_ night before. Greg locked the shame away, refusing to let it show as he glanced up at Ed’s comment.

“What was that, Ed?”

“You wanna do the final brief, Boss, or should I?”

A briefing. Orders to be handed out. He couldn’t do it – couldn’t _trust_ himself to do it. “I’ll handle the background if you lay out the plan.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Boss. He was really starting to hate that word – and the trust it implied. Trust he no longer _deserved_. Still, he smiled. “Okay, Eddie. Let’s keep the peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had a sharp reminder this weekend that in the midst of all my complaining about my _job_ , I've forgotten how much I have to be thankful for and how much the Lord has given me.
> 
> So here is a small list of things I am thankful for:  
> 1\. My job - yes, I've been whining and complaining about it, but I am grateful that I _do_ have a job, no matter how much it might grate at times. I am also grateful for the experience I am gaining, even if I do not understand why I am in a job that isn't software development.  
> 2\. My apartment - Thank you, Lord, for the roof over my head and all the things that come along with having a safe, dependable place to live.  
> 3\. My car - my beautiful, reliable 2014 Dodge Journey that God gave to me after my 2005 Dodge Grand Caravan was killed by a tree branch (parked, I wasn't in it).  
> 4\. My family - my parents who raised me as best they could and still support me to this day as I make my way through life.  
> 5\. The Home Run Inn pepperoni pizza I found so unexpectedly at my local grocery store - Had to pry the pepperonis off (I'm a cheese girl) and then I foolishly over-cooked it in the oven, but dang if that isn't some of the best pizza I've had in _months_. First time I've found any Home Run Inn pizza for sale since I moved to Texas.


	2. From the Frying Pan

Spike geared up, checking his submachine gun with the ease of long practice. It was a bit of a tight squeeze in the equipment cage with himself, Lou, Sam, and Jules all gearing up in the same area, but he hardly noticed, save when Lou reached past him for a magazine.

Behind them, the Boss announced, “Okay, guys, last time to review this. We are a full escort for a high-risk target, Karl Morse. He’s enroute to Metro Courthouse Three for sentencing after a plea deal for drug trafficking.”

As Spike stepped out of the cage, Lou at his shoulder, Sarge came to a halt right next to them. Sam and Jules, almost finished themselves, turned to listen. Their team leader picked up the briefing. “Okay, I just sent everybody the final route plan. It’s on your smartphones. Now there’s a lot of chatter on the jungle telegraph. A lot of people wanna get to this guy.”

“Jailbreak?” Wordy asked, concern flashing.

“If he took a plea bargain, he probably talked,” Jules pointed out, earning a nod.

Behind her, Sam added, “Meaning the people he talked about aren’t too happy.”

“Okay, here it is,” Ed said, laying out the bottom line. “Whoever gets to Morse makes a lot of friends. We’re gonna stop that from happening.”

In his pocket, Spike’s smartphone went off, he pulled it out, glancing at the number, then turned towards his ride buddy for the escort. “Meet you in the truck.” He caught Sam’s nod as he darted away, hurrying to get some distance before picking up. “Hey, Natalie, not a great time.”

Sam’s sister breezed right over him. “Hey, sorry, it won’t take long. I just wanted to get back to my friend about what we talked about last night.”

Spike winced. He liked Natalie, he really did. She was beautiful and smart and funny – and willing to give a _geek_ like him the time of day. But she was moving too fast. She seemed to expect them to jump from a friendship that had barely gotten started straight into – something more. If she hadn’t been his teammate’s sister, he might’ve been willing to follow her lead, but… “Yeah, yeah. I thought about it a lot, and, uh, the thing is, uh, I think right now is not a good time.”

“It’s just a weekend, Spike. She’s got the cottage all summer. I didn’t mean it to be some big thing.”

The bomb tech flushed, but his instincts said otherwise. The _tone_ of her _voice_ said otherwise. “No, no. Of course not. You know, I… Honestly, Nat? I like you, and I think you’re great. But, um, thing is, I don’t think I’m ready to go to a cottage for the weekend right now.”

Naturally, she took his meaning in the worse possible light. Sarcasm rang. “So you like me, you just don’t ‘like’ like me. Got you. Is it my brother? Did he say something?”

Spike restrained a frown. He was _perfectly_ capable of handling Sam all on his own, thank you. If he wanted to date Natalie, that was between _them_. Even if it would be awkward and weird to date his teammate’s sister. Then again, it was no less awkward than _knowing_ two of your _teammates_ were dating. In defiance of SRU policy and with not a smidge of regard for the team they’d endangered by doing so.

Pushing aside his lingering bitterness towards Sam and Jules’ relationship, Spike replied, “No, I haven’t talked to Sam.”

“Please don’t say, it’s not you, it’s me.” Just like that, Natalie’s attitude changed. Rather than near anger, now she was pleading with him; instincts twanged again. Who had made her feel like she had to settle for the _first_ guy who crossed her path?

“Okay.”

She paused, not sure how to take his response. “Okay. But it’s not me, right?”

The plea in those words hurt – not because she didn’t trust him, but because she clearly expected it _was_ her. “It’s not you,” Spike reassured her. “Still friends?”

“Okay.” Relief seemed to shine in the word. Then Spike heard a noise from her end. “Um, other line,” Natalie admitted. “You go.”

“Okay. Uh, call me when you get back?” Maybe by then he might have a better idea of what to say to the beautiful, but fragile woman.

“You got it.”

* * * * *

Three trucks and one van moved smoothly through the streets of Toronto. Two SRU trucks held the lead, with the prison van sandwiched between the second truck and the final SRU truck. Parker drove the lead truck with Jules keeping an eye out next to him. In the second truck, Ed and Wordy kept their heads on a swivel, though Wordy kept one eye on his boss’s taillights. The final SRU truck, driven by Sam, also held two computer techs, each keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Spike focused on any anomalous signals while Lou hunted for any unexpected phone or Internet chatter.

“Okay, we’re about fifteen minutes from target,” Ed announced. “Status report.”

“Secondary clear,” Jules reported. “Sam?”

“Primary good. Spike? Lou?”

As Spike nodded, Lou replied, “All good, Sam.”

“Surveillance all clear,” Sam confirmed.

“Let’s keep it that way,” their team leader decided.

Lou frowned from his spot in the backseat when he heard Sam click his radio off. Glancing up, he kept quiet, but listened closely.

“Is everything good with you, man?”

Confusion registered on Spike’s mobile face. “All clear.”

Sam shook his head in frustration. “I mean…” He sighed, then started again. “Okay, last night, Natalie came home from coffee with you and she seemed upset.”

Lou’s eyebrows arched. Spike and _Natalie_? Not that he was dissing his best bud, but _Natalie Braddock_? The same Natalie that treated Sam like a leper for working magic-side?

“She was upset?” Spike asked, worry ringing.

“Well, she was trying to hide it, yeah. She asked if you ever stopped with the kidding around.”

Lou cleared his throat, unable to keep silent any more. “Sam? Natalie’s talking to you again?”

Sam flinched. “Took her awhile,” he muttered.

“Sam?” Spike pressed.

“No, I’m good, guys. She was just…she was just following the General’s orders.”

“And now she’s not?” Spike asked before Lou could.

One shoulder hiked. “She came back around right around when Ed got shot,” Sam informed his teammates. “It was…tense, but, um, I actually got to introduce her to our aunt. Don’t know what she said to Nat, but Natalie’s been okay with me ever since.”

“Okay.” Lou deadpanned the word.

Sam flinched again. “She’s my sister.”

And that meant Sam would go the distance for her.

Flicking a side-long glance at Spike, Sam pressed, “So?”

Spike fidgeted in his seat. “I don’t know, I make jokes, it’s what I do. You usually your sister’s wing-man?”

In the backseat, Lou made a face. Spike _could_ be serious when he needed to be, but if Natalie couldn’t take his friend’s enthusiasm and joking around, then she was _not_ a good fit for Spike. Even if she _was_ talking to her brother again.

Naturally, Spike’s rather accurate observation hit a mark. “I’m not her wing-man, okay?” Sam protested.

_Could’ve fooled me,_ Lou thought sardonically.

“You know what? Never mind.”

As Sam reached for his radio, Spike retorted, “We’re not dating.”

Relief flickered across Sam’s face. “Well, that’s good because that would be weird.”

Lou stiffened up again, biting down on the urge to point out what was _really_ weird on the SRU dating scene.

“Trouble has a way of finding her.”

Oh and why was he getting a _very_ bad feeling about that statement?

* * * * *

In the second truck, Ed ordered, “Okay guys, stay sharp. Four more blocks to the courthouse, say goodbye to Morse, we head home.”

A moment later, Jules sang out. “Ed, city van, dead ahead.”

Right on her heels, the Boss said, “Team, let’s pull over.”

Said. Not ordered. Before Ed could follow the train of thought on that particular observation, Wordy asked, “Why a city van? Shouldn’t be any work on this route.”

Ed inclined his head in agreement. “Jules, call the city, see if this is just a miscommunication.” To his best friend, the team leader added, “Let’s check it out.”

The two constables clambered out of their truck, trading glances as they drew their weapons and jogged forward, past their teammates in the lead truck and towards the rogue city van. As they approached, Ed signaled Wordy, earning a nod as the big constable fell back a step.

Over the radio, Ed heard Sam ask, “What is it?” but set that aside as he reached the van’s windows and shifted to peek inside.

“It’s a fake!” Spike yelled. “Pull back! Pull back!”

Both Ed and Wordy scrambled away from the van as Ed echoed Spike’s warning and started scanning for their subject.

“It’s gotta be up high,” Spike announced. “Wherever that signal’s coming from, they want direct line of sight to the explosive. I’ve just jammed a high-level frequency. It’s got no business being in this area, might be an IED on that truck.”

“You sure?” Greg pressed.

Sam cut in, pointing out, “There’s a lot of news satellite hookups for the Morse hearing.”

Spike dismissed the doubts. “It’s too high for that. It’s very specific, so it can’t be triggered accidentally.”

Point for their bomb tech. “Spike, you find the location of the trigger man?” Greg asked.

“West from here. It’s close. I can’t be more specific, guys.”

That was enough. Ed’s sniper eyes picked out a likely target and he signaled Wordy. “Got it. Word and I are heading west.”

Spike’s concern spilled down the comm. “I got it jammed for now, but if he switches signals…”

“Copy that, Boss,” Ed acknowledged. “I’m trying the nearest building with a good vantage.”

“Copy that,” Greg replied, sharp and brisk. “Jules, let’s clear those people out of here.”

Ed dismissed the background chatter as he and Wordy pelted up the stairs, weapons drawn and ready. The teammates slowed as they reached the roof, caution taking precedence over raw speed. A quick peek around the next corner revealed their target. Without even a glance at each other, the pair moved in, sidearms rising.

“Right there. Bad idea. Freeze right there.” As he spoke, he and Wordy advanced, keeping their weapons trained on the subject’s chest. He stared at them in dismay, but wisely held still. “Really bad idea. Turn around. Put the phone on the ledge, no fast moves.”

The man obeyed and Ed tilted his head at Wordy. Wordy swept in, seizing the phone as Ed cuffed their catch. “Subject secured. We got the detonator.”

“That’s great work, Spike, everybody,” Greg praised. “Now, let’s get Mr. Morse to his court date.”

Though Ed moved to obey, he frowned. Why hadn’t Greg lent his eagle vision to tracking down the rooftop subject? It wasn’t a problem, Ed had been able to calculate a likely location without his boss’s help, but still. Greg had _never_ held back his own talents before. So why was he doing it now?

* * * * *

Once they’d safely arrived at the courthouse, Spike tucked his laptop away in the back of the truck as he listened to his boss’s report on their escort’s status. “Morse is enroute to the rear entrance of the courthouse.”

Behind him, Wordy mused, “Heck of thing. We bagged him last year.”

“Lakeshore warehouse, three million worth of heroin,” Sam agreed.

Jules offered a sarcastic, “And now we just risked our butts off to save his life.”

Cheerfully, Spike turned away from the truck to retort, “So we can safely get his sorry butt back in jail.”

Wordy chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Only you, Spike.”

Undeterred, Spike cheered, “Justice League.”

“Not anymore,” Sam muttered.

Spike winced; no, not any more. The kids had even confirmed it. The Halloween costumes were just that now – all traces of the spells on them had faded into nothingness. He hadn’t been sure if he should be disappointed or relieved by that. Into the silence, his phone rang.

Glancing down, he recognized the number at once. Twice in one day? “Ah. Hold on a sec. Sorry, I gotta take this.”

Strolling away and even glancing back to make sure Sam wasn’t getting curious, Spike answered with a brisk, “Hey! It still isn’t you.”

Something in Natalie’s voice was worried. Desperate. “Spike, I’m sorry. I know what you said, but I really need to see you.”

Uncertain, Spike replied, “Uh, okay, I can come by after shift.”

He almost jumped at the sharp, “No!” Then her voice turned sweet, wheedling. “Spike, please come. I’m with David, and he’d really like to meet you.”

Instincts and suspicion prickled. “Well, who’s David?”

“He’s an old friend.” Uh- _huh_ , he didn’t _sound_ like it. Confirming his impression, Natalie pleaded, “Just please come get me.”

“Get you? Nat, you in trouble?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Concern pulsed; something was _wrong_. “Okay, you know what? I’ll get Sam. He’s gonna come out--”

Spike winced as another “No!” threatened to shatter his eardrum. “Don’t. Just come. Please, I really need your help.”

He shouldn’t, he should get Sam – whatever was wrong, Sam was Nat’s _brother_. But Natalie had called _him_ ; for some reason she wanted _his_ help. “Okay, where are you?”

After getting the directions, Spike arrowed for his boss and his team leader. “Hey, guys, I got a bit of a personal thing I gotta take care of. If we’re all done here, I’ll just come back after to debrief, okay?”

“Holleran’s gonna wanna hear about the IED, Spike,” the Boss pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, and I’ll be there. Just…”

Worry flashed in Sarge’s eyes. “Your Mom?”

Unwilling to lie, Spike simply replied, “Uh, it’ll be quick.”

“You can do it in a hour?” Ed asked.

“Half that.”

With a shrug, Ed replied, “See you at the barn.”

“All right.”

Permission obtained, Spike hustled for one of the trucks. He had a teammate’s sister to save.

* * * * *

Unease bubbled as Spike pulled up to the location Natalie had given him. Graffiti had turned the door and the surrounding metal into a piece of abstract art, one that had his cop instincts prickling and screaming at him to get _out_ of here. Instead, he swung out of the truck and hurried over to the door, keeping one hand near his gun as he pressed the buzzer.

A male voice came from the speaker. “Spike.”

“Yeah, hi, is this David? I’m here for Natalie. Could you just send her down?”

Ignoring his request, the other said, “Come on in.”

The door buzzed open, much to Spike’s displeasure. Even so, he couldn’t turn back now. Pushing down the part of himself that was screaming at him to pull out, he nudged the door open and walked in.

The brunet who greeted him reminded him, vaguely, of Wordy, though David wore his hair a few centimeters longer than his teammate and sported blue eyes instead of gray. Though not as solidly built as Wordy, nor as tall, David’s eyes were hard behind his friendly demeanor and Spike felt his insides writhe. This was _not_ a place he wanted to be and this was not a man he wanted to tangle with if he could help it. One hand hovered right above his gun grip; instinct.

“Officer Scarlatti, Natalie has told me so much about you.”

Smooth, friendly, but Spike didn’t trust that honeyed tone. Stiff and on guard, Spike replied, “There’s not that much to tell.” Turning toward Natalie, he added, “Hey.”

Natalie stood up, her resemblance to Sam plain in her long blonde hair and eyes so like her brother’s, even if she tended more towards gray than Sam. As always, she was immaculately put together, her loose white shirt setting off her long silver necklace and the jeans she wore. A bruise shadowed her chin and terror stood out.

“Spike, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry, just get your things and let’s get going.” He was going to _get_ Natalie out of here and _then_ he was going to sic _Sam_ on this _jerk_ and offer to _help_ teach him a _lesson_ on how to treat women.

“See, we knew you were the type of boyfriend who’d answer a distress call, no questions asked.”

Spike stiffened – oh, he had a _bad_ feeling about where this was going. “Natalie? What’s going on?”

Before she could respond, a new man appeared and Spike caught the flash of a gun barrel out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find that gun barrel pointed _straight_ at his head.

“We’re on,” the new man said.

Dropping the friendliness like the act it had been, David snapped, “She’s done. Tie her up.” As Spike looked the other man in the eye, he growled, “Let’s get to work.”

Great. He’d walked right into a hostage situation – and _he_ was one of the hostages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday and this Friday happens to be July 3rd, which means I got a day off today! Yay! It also happens to be the day before July 4th, so please stay tuned tomorrow for a very special oneshot I've been keeping in reserve for the summer.
> 
> Happy Fourth of July, everyone!


	3. Into the Fire

With himself at gunpoint and Natalie under threat, Spike opted not to fight back. He let them disarm him and take his phone, though he winced when the second man – Albin – forced the magical smartphone open to remove its GPS chip. Silently, he willed the phone to stay silent and not ‘fight’ back. Though if they managed to set its alarm off, that wouldn’t be so bad.

Particularly since his Plan A was a nonstarter. Plan A had been to use the telepathy from the Boss’s ‘team sense’ to yell for help. Unfortunately, it seemed Ed had been right when he’d said the telepathy would wear off along with the magic booster. No telepathy. Dang.

As he was forced into a chair and they used his _own cuffs_ to restrain him, Spike reached for the ‘team sense’ again. All right, no telepathy, but the _emotions_ should still work, right? Sure, Sarge had said they wouldn’t be _automatically_ transmitted any more, but that didn’t mean they _couldn’t_ be transmitted.

He felt it happen, felt his panic and terror sail down the ‘team sense’…only to ram into an impenetrable wall. What the heck? Sarge _always_ kept his ‘team sense’ on while on-duty! Spike closed his eyes briefly, trying again, but the emotional distress signal never reached its destination.

_I’m in trouble._

* * * * *

“Michelangelo Scarlatti, badge number 3496.”

“What are you gonna do with Natalie?” Spike demanded, though fresh alarm prickled at David’s opening. They knew who he _was_ ; they’d wanted _him_ here. But why?

“Joined the Police Strategic Response Unit in 2005, specializing in bomb disposal and crazy ‘mad’ computer skills.”

Indignation prickled in his chest; yes, he was a geek, but he was a geek with _combat skills_. Big difference. Not to mention, he _was_ SRU – negotiation thrust itself forward without thought. “David, you got me. Let her go.”

The other man – Albin – reappeared, carrying a pile of now useless tracking equipment. He let the pile drop on the table, announcing, “He’s off the grid. Got everything with a GPS trace, including the SUV’s tracker.” He was the same height as his partner, with hair that was quite solidly in the dark brown territory and scruff on his face that hinted at a Tony Stark-like goatee. Eyes the same shade as his hair peeked out from under thick eyebrows and his calm demeanor made it clear he was just as much a professional criminal as his partner.

Spike’s eyes narrowed as he cataloged his options. Yes, they’d gotten the _equipment_ , but that wasn’t the _only_ way to track him. Even prying his phone’s GPS chip out hadn’t done anything – the chip was a decoy, meant _solely_ to trick people into thinking the smartphone was a _regular_ smartphone. Nor was the phone his only trump card; he still had his Auror badge and the truck still operated with a computer _designed_ to work magic-side. The constable figured it for better than even odds that Gringotts could find him, his phone, _and_ the truck. Unfortunately, all of that required his teammates realizing something was wrong and _asking_ Gringotts to track him, but it was better than nothing.

“Special citation last year for bravery in the line of duty, one of the best cops in the city, and you’re gonna help me get something from…” David reached past him to tap the keyboard. “…there.”

Spike gawped at the building on the screen and the large bold text next to it. The Metro Evidence Depot? Huffing incredulously, he demanded, “Are you serious?”

David smiled the smile of a ravening wolf and pointed his gun at Natalie, drawing a whimper from the woman.

“David. David, stop. Stop! David! I don’t know what Natalie told you I could do, but the evidence depot?” Seriously, was the man _insane_? Desperate, Spike rapped out the facts. “That’s what people talk about when they talk about something being impenetrable. Alarms at every entrance and exit, key cards and pass codes, not to mention a dozen armed guards, 24/7. Now, I don’t know exactly what you expect--”

Albin cut in, his tone imperious and unyielding. “We expect you to hack into the security mainframe with a spoofed ID to cover your tracks, override the ID line system and keep any traces off your line while you’re doing it.” Leaning over, Alvin added, “Now, I’ve already got you routed through an encrypted VPN.”

“Okay. So it sounds like you know exactly what you’re doing. You don’t need me or Natalie.” Futile; if they could’ve done this hack by themselves, Spike knew darn good and well they’d’ve done it. Why invite trouble by kidnapping a cop if they didn’t need him?

From his position next to Natalie, David announced, “Here’s the deal, two men waiting on my signal to enter. They have IDs, they have uniforms, they know the layout.”

“But we don’t have passwords,” Albin interjected. “So you gotta get them and handle any curve balls.”

“And you gotta move fast because we are fighting the clock.” Rather pointedly, David checked his watch as he spoke.

“What’s the rush?” Spike questioned. If he could run that clock…

“Evidence protocol,” Albin explained. “What we want gets destroyed end of shift. That is at 4:00.”

David capped off the ‘briefing’ with a one-line summation of what he and his cohort were forcing Spike into. “You have to get them through three gates and to the main evidence depot.” A flicker of loathing ran across the man’s face. “Now, if you need more persuasion…” As he spoke, he seized Natalie by her hair, yanking her head back; dark amusement shone when she cried out.

“No,” Spike retorted instantly. “Okay, okay. No. We’re good.”

The bomb tech tuned out David’s conversation with his two bagmen as he focused on the computer system, fingers flying as he typed, letting every ounce of his speed and skills out to ‘play’. He hated this, hated using skills he’d perfected to _help_ people for a _criminal’s_ benefit. But until he could alert his team, there was no choice. Talk about a lousy Plan C – assuming he survived, he and his boss were going to have _words_ over the Sarge cutting off the ‘team sense’.

“Using a packet sniffer?” Albin asked from his spot, crouching next to the computer and watching over Spike’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Got me the admin password. And now…”

“We’re into the main security system,” Albin breathed.

Over both their shoulders, David announced, “And we’ve got two guys at the front door.”

“I’m ready for them,” Spike replied – and boy, was he _ever_. These guys were _seriously_ going to regret snatching an SRU constable by the time he was done. As he kept typing, he asked Albin, “You used to be a blue hat?”

The subject didn’t flinch or even look surprised by Spike’s deduction. “Yeah, but the money’s better on this side of the computer.”

Spike nodded, but internally, he seethed. Money. What good was money if innocent people got hurt?

“Stand by,” David growled.

Spike reviewed his hasty plan, searching for any gaps, then informed the subjects, “Okay, first gate’s a standard ID check. I set them both up with a dummy number, it’ll check out. That’s the easy part. But once they’re in, if I don’t move fast enough, there is no turning back.”

David’s expression never flickered, but his gaze was hard and his words harsh. “Then you’d better move fast, Spike.”

The bomb tech forced his attention back on the computer, sparing one final moment to push at the ‘team sense’; funny how he’d been all enthused about the improvements to the ‘team sense’ and now…now he wanted the _old_ ‘team sense’ back. On the screen, he watched as the bagmen made their way past the first checkpoint. “No turning back,” he whispered, mentally gearing up for the technological fight for his life.

Over his shoulder, David ordered, “Get them in and out.” Snapping his fingers, the brunet pointed at the screen and growled, “Hurdle number two.”

Half acting and half in earnest, Spike hissed, “Darn it.”

“What?” Albin demanded. “They found the hack?”

“No,” Spike replied. “To get through the second gate, you need the latest password. You usually get that via secure e-mail, but I can’t find it. If I had more time…”

“We don’t have more time,” David rapped out.

Alarm echoed in Albin’s announcement. “They’re at the gate.”

“I told you, once--”

“They’re at the gate, get them in,” David barked.

Albin rose, shifting behind Spike to his partner. “David, the cops will be on us if we don’t move fast.”

_I got news for you; they’re gonna be on you_ anyway _,_ Spike thought wryly as his hands flew across the keyboard with renewed vigor.

“We’re moving fast,” David argued back.

“This is risky,” Albin insisted.

_Oh, gee, you didn’t realize that_ before _you kidnapped me ‘n’ Natalie?_

“This is our shot,” David retorted.

Cutting in, Spike said, “Okay, I got an idea. I’m sending them a password right now. It’s gonna be wrong, you tell them to punch it in anyway.”

Suspicious, David questioned, “Why? What are you trying to do?”

“An incorrect password will set off an alert in the server.”

Albin lit up. “It’ll try to verify the number.”

“Yeah,” Spike confirmed. “Three times before sounding the alarm.”

Leaning in on his left side once more, Albin concluded, “The system’s open during the verification.”

“And I wanna jump in during that pause and reset the password. That way the system will think it’s correct.” Risky, but doable, especially for him. Plus, it would give him valuable cred for when this thing went south.

“What kind of pause?” David asked. “How long?”

“Half a second.” At the incredulous glare, Spike snapped, “That’s the best I can do.”

Glancing between the bomb tech and his partner, David sighed, his expression going grim. Lifting his hand to his earpiece, the subject informed his bagmen, “He’s sending a password, but there’s a catch.”

Spike flew into motion as the first password went in, grimacing as his first try went awry. He flinched as David thunked his gun down, his glare between Spike and Natalie full of dark promise. Tension built even further as the bomb tech’s second try also failed.

Over his shoulder, David growled, “Last chance.”

“I can count,” Spike retorted, his focus narrowing. _Come on, come on._ On the screen, the door opened and Spike let himself slump back for an instant, panting. _Gotcha._

After a moment, David remarked, “All right. Two down, one to go. We’ve got twenty-four minutes left. So from here?”

Albin, once again calm and in control, replied, “From here, it’s just a straight shot. Then back out the same way?”

“Simplest and fastest.”

The captive bomb tech snatched his opening. “That’s the plan. Listen, once you guys find whatever it is you’re looking for, you’re gonna let me and Natalie go, right?” Inwardly, he smirked. Let them think he was that naïve and that dumb; he knew perfectly well what they had planned once he and Natalie were of no further use to them.

To his surprise, David laughed, sneering more at Natalie than Spike. Casually, the man drawled, “Wow. You hear that, Nat? Even after you trick him and lure him here and he’s handcuffed to a chair, he’s still worried about you. How do you do that, huh?” Without waiting for a response, he spun back towards his other captive, expression and tone going darker. “See, Spike, with me, it was like, uh… You know, everything’s great, she’s all happy-go-lucky, let’s live in the moment, right? Next thing you know, I’m in a Colombian jail and she’s on a plane ride back home.” Hate rang in the final sentence.

Albin glanced over, his words direct. “Dave, focus.”

David’s gaze returned to Natalie and as he spoke, he paced towards her and leaned over, right in her face. “See, lucky for me, I had a good friend, who, after ten months, tracks me down in hell and persuades the devil to save my soul with some serious cash. And when he starts planning this little project, I tell him, I can make that happen.” Gazing right into Natalie’s eyes, David added, “Because that’s what friends do.”

A deliberate jab, Spike would stake his annual salary _and_ his Auror badge on it. Fresh determination rose; he _had_ to get David’s attention away from Natalie. “David, it’s working. Your idea, it was smart. It got me here, we got them inside.” The final two sentences slipped out before he could snap his teeth shut. “Hey. Just let her go.” Inwardly, he kicked himself for putting David’s focus back _on_ Natalie.

David sneered again. “No. She doesn’t get to walk away. Not this time.”

Spike’s blood ran cold. He was just business, but Natalie? She was _personal_ – David had never had any intentions of letting her escape with her life.

* * * * *

Greg frowned as his phone call to Spike went straight to voicemail, his bomb tech’s cheerful, “Hey, you’ve reached me. Leave a message,” playing yet again. Frustrated, the Sergeant lowered the phone without leaving a message – he’d already left two.

Next to him, Ed asked, “Anything from Spike?”

Parker shook his head, already enacting a new plan. “No. Winnie, call Spike’s Mom. I need him to check in.”

“Copy that,” Winnie acknowledged.

“Greg?” Ed questioned, one brow arching and his tone pointed.

Internally, the Sergeant quailed. Eddie wanted him to use the very same ‘team sense’ he’d just shut down that morning. Temptation licked at him – he’d _know_ where Spike was – but Greg schooled himself. If he was going to stop abusing his team’s trust, he needed to start _somewhere_ and he needed to stand his ground. No more, never again.

So he simply shook his head at Ed, refusing the unspoken suggestion even as he reinforced the mental barrier he’d put in place around the ‘team sense’.

* * * * *

“Last gate,” Spike murmured as he watched the two bagmen approach the third gate into the evidence depot. Inwardly, he steeled himself. Time and past to shake this up. His hands flew on the keyboard – he _had_ to make this look good. Had to make sure they didn’t realize what he was doing, even as he did it right under their noses.

As the bagman typed in the incorrect password, the bomb tech’s focus narrowed. Just another day on the job, nothing to worry about. Then the screen fuzzed and went blank. “Uh-oh.”

The depot’s alarm went off.

Over his shoulder, Albin demanded, “What, secondary firewall?”

“System overrode the relay. It has a built-in fail-safe if you try it more than once.”

Albin wasn’t buying it. “No, no, no, no. My sources said there wasn’t one.”

“Okay, then you tell me what happened,” Spike bit back.

From the opposite side, David hissed, “What’s the plan, Scarlatti?”

Mute, Spike gazed up at the man – why should _he_ come up with a plan to save four criminals? David’s face contorted with fury and he lashed out, belting Spike with his gun. Natalie gave a little scream as the bomb tech reeled, gasping a little at the unexpected pain; internally, he sorted through what options he still had left.

“What is the plan?” David repeated, his tone expectant.

Through a freshly split lip, Spike mumbled, “Tell him to fire his weapon.”

“What?” Incredulity rang, along with a touch of ‘do-you- _really_ -think-I’m-that-stupid?’

Numb, but determined, Spike replied, “Your guy on the inside, tell him to shoot at the fire alarm. If he shoots at the fire alarm, the doors will open and the guards will fall back when a live round is fired. That’s the protocol.”

For a long moment, tension vibrated and David’s expression twisted with raw fury, hate, and loathing. Then he turned away and snapped, “Shoot the fire alarm. Do it!”

On the screen, Spike watched as one of the bagmen shot the fire alarm, releasing the doors and escalating the situation into a full-fledged crisis. The bagmen strode forward, both of them with weapons drawn and intent on their destination. As the pair headed deeper into the evidence depot, the SRU constable restrained a smirk. Because now this was a Team One matter. His team was coming for him, even if they didn’t know it yet. He just had to keep himself and Natalie alive long enough for help to arrive.

_Checkmate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July weekend. If anyone missed it, I did post a oneshot on Saturday (July 4th) in honor of America's birthday.


	4. Officer Needs Assistance

Greg was filling out one of the new paperwork forms on Winnie’s desk when the alarm went off. The dispatcher immediately followed up the alarm with her own report. “Hot call, hot call! Shots fired at the evidence depot.”

“The evidence depot?” Ed asked as he stalked in from the briefing room. “Who opens fire there? That place is like Fort Knox.”

“Reports say two uniformed officers. They’re still in there,” Winnie replied.

As Sam darted past, he paused long enough to ask, “Still no word on Spike?”

“No,” Winnie informed them. “His mother hasn’t seen him all day and his cell phone’s going straight to voicemail.”

The Sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “Winnie, track his GPS,” he ordered briskly. “We need him.”

“Copy that,” Winnie agreed, but her boss had already moved on.

Reaching inwards, Greg flicked the ‘team sense’ on, reaching for Spike. The barrier he’d half-expected never materialized, but there was no distress radiating from his constable. Only grim determination and focus. If he had to, Greg knew he _could_ go straight to Spike, but with the hot call, that was no longer an option. Not with Toth hanging over their shoulders.

Opting not to distract Spike – Winnie could find him – Parker returned his attention to their latest hot call.

* * * * *

“Okay, talk fast,” David ordered coldly. “How does this work?”

Grimacing at the sting of pain from his mouth and lower jaw, Spike explained, “When the fire alarm goes off, it unlocks all the doors until the all-clear. It’s easier now.” _Now play along, like a good little psychotic._

Rather predictably, David countered, “Except for the shots fired, the SRU gets called.”

Refusing to flinch, Spike retorted, “And I’m SRU, and I know exactly what they’re gonna do, and how they’re gonna do it. Team One is a man short, so there’s gonna be holes in the perimeter. We’re gonna have a window before backup shows up.”

With a sneer and a snarl, David turned, walking away, but Spike had a feeling he’d won. He worked to keep his face steady and calm as his captor reached up to his earpiece. “Hollings, Kenton, listen up, here’s--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on,” Albin cried, darting over to his partner. “David, David, David. Firing shots in a building full of cops. How does that not lead back here?”

Spike suppressed his smirk as David spat, “I have the doors unlocked. You wanna tell me how your source didn’t know about this, uh, fail-safe?”

So. Predictable. A _criminal_ who darn well should’ve known better believed his _hostage_ over his partner. Idiot.

“Spike, I’m so sorry,” Natalie whispered, drawing Spike’s attention. “This is all my fault.”

Leaning forward, Spike lowered his voice low enough that even Natalie had trouble hearing him. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay. I set off the alarm on purpose.”

Worry flared. “No. No,” Natalie whimpered. “Just do what they say.”

Behind the pair, David sneered, “You wanna ask them for a plan B? All right, boys, listen up. Here’s the plan.”

Ignoring the numskulls yapping behind him, Spike’s tone turned intent. “Natalie. The second they get what they want and they get out of there, we become a liability and they are going to kill us, okay? I have to draw this out. And I have to make sure our team gets here. They’re the only ones who can help us now.”

He’d talked too long; David made his presence known with a shout. “Hey! Hey! I need you to focus, Spike. Albin, shut her trap.”

Spike refused to flinch as David leveled his gun, aiming for the center of the bomb tech’s forehead. Natalie took it far worse than _he_ did. “No, no! Spike!”

“Natalie, it’s okay!” Spike called. “Okay, Natalie, it’s okay. Okay?”

As David yelled, “Albin, now!”, Albin forced Natalie back against the couch, a piece of ducktape in his hands. She struggled, yanking her face away and crying, “No!”

“Get off her!” Spike yelled, even as more reassurances slipped free. “It’s gonna be okay.”

* * * * *

Two black trucks raced down the road, sirens wailing as they slid into one final turn to arrive at their destination. Five men and one woman scrambled out of the trucks, collecting their gear before running inside the imposing white two story building. The stone wall in front of the entrance declared their location to be the Metro Evidence Depot, one of the most secure locations in the whole of Toronto.

Inside, the facility’s white-haired commander led the officers towards the surveillance room. As they walked, Ed asked, “How many officers you got in there?”

“Seventeen,” the commander replied. “They know you’re here. They’ve all got secure locations to stay in while you do your thing.”

“Where were the suspects headed?” the team leader pressed.

“The evidence locker.”

“Just two males?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, but they had help,” the commander informed the SRU cops.

Team leader and Sergeant traded grim glances. Without pausing his stride, Parker keyed his radio. “Winnie, where the hell is Spike?”

Alarm flared with her report. “There’s no trace on his vehicle’s GPS.”

What? No trace on the _truck’s_ GPS? In between one breath and the next, Greg slammed his connection to his bomb tech wide open, sending his magic spiraling down the link as he attempted to trace his officer’s location. Frustration boiled just as fast; the link wasn’t _blocked_ , but it had always acted more like a homing beacon than GPS. Unless he had more evidence that Spike _needed_ backup, he couldn’t justify abandoning an ongoing hot call.

All of which left Greg still striding alongside his team leader towards the surveillance room as Winnie’s all-call went out over every last police channel she had access to. “This is an all-call for Officer Spike Scarlatti, badge number 3496. Repeat, Officer Spike Scarlatti of the Strategic Response Unit, report in. If you have any information on his current whereabouts, you need to report to the SRU immediately.” In a lower tone, she whispered, “Come on, Spike, where are you? Where are you?”

* * * * *

Spike discreetly worked his jaw, wishing his hands were free enough to rub at it. A shimmer in the air caught his eye, just past the couch Natalie was on. A _human_ shaped shimmer… Did David and Albin have _magical_ backup? Even if they did, Spike wasn’t all that worried about it; Team One’s tactics and strategies were, even after four years, seemingly impenetrable mysteries to most of the magical world. It might’ve been funny if it hadn’t been such a sad commentary on how out of date the wizards really were.

Then the shimmer briefly resolved itself into a human figure, one who winked at Spike before vanishing again. What the! What was _he_ doing here?

Before Spike could chase his train of thought any further, David questioned, “Okay, Spike, what’s the SRU’s plan?” An edge rang, one that warned Spike he was treading on dangerous ground.

The bomb tech snapped his attention back to the computer screen and replied, “They’re gonna set up a command post, and make a beeline for the evidence room.”

“Time?”

“Minutes.” Though Spike kept his voice matter-of-fact, inwardly he grinned. His team was the _best_ and despite the circumstances, he could _finally_ brag about that fact. Even if he _was_ bragging to two low-life thugs.

David leaned in, growling, “This had better work.”

The bomb tech glanced up and met his captor’s gaze calmly. “Like I told you, you do what I tell you, they’re not gonna know what hit them.” Shifting his gaze to the computer screen, he added, “They’re entering the surveillance room right now. But not for long.”

Leaning forward over his shoulder, David ordered his bagmen, “Go. Go!”

* * * * *

The facility’s white-haired commander led Team One into the surveillance room. The surveillance camera feeds, usually crisp and easy to see, were now blurred and useless. Static flicked through the images and even the cameras’ locations was nearly impossible to determine, never mind what they were capturing.

“This is what I mean, they had help.”

“What are we looking at here?” Ed demanded as he surveyed the camera views.

“System’s gone haywire,” Jules opined.

As Lou investigated the computers, cautiously tapping at keys, and Parker inspected the facility’s map, the grim commander explained, “It’s been hacked. The alarm’s on a perpetual loop, you don’t even know what it’s flagging.”

“No way we can see what’s going on,” Sam pointed out; behind him, Wordy loomed, just as grim as his teammates.

The Sergeant turned from his initial inspection, meeting his team leader’s gaze. “Most secure building in the city, Eddie, and someone just cracked it open like a science project.”

It only took the team leader a moment to decide his course. “Okay, okay. You stay here, Boss. Let’s get us back online. Guys, with me. Let’s move it.”

“I’ll stay too, Boss,” Lou volunteered. “Maybe I can counter the hack.”

Rather than reply, Lane arched an eyebrow at his superior, silently forcing Parker to make the call.

Hazel flickered, then the negotiator nodded. “All right, Lou; see what you can do.”

“Copy,” the backup computer tech agreed as his teammates departed. He sat down at one of the computers and immediately started typing, hands flying as he fought to override the hack.

* * * * *

The one downside to Spike’s plan was the subject leaning over his shoulder, watching Team One’s movements like a hawk. “They’re on the move. Kenton, you have four heavily armed SRU cops closing in.”

From the other side, Albin said, “Quickest way out, not the way they came. Out the back?”

“Yeah,” Spike agreed, even as he plotted when to make his next move.

On his right, David announced, “We can get you out without them seeing you, but you gotta move.”

As the bagmen started moving, Spike input his next command. _Showtime._

* * * * *

Team One advanced into the main part of the evidence depot, weapons up as they leapfrogged forward. Wordy ducked to the left, checking a nearby hallway. “Clear.”

In the monitor room, Greg had returned to his inspection of the facility map as Lou worked alongside the commander to regain control. Without warning, the alarm cut out. Turning, Greg asked, “You got control?”

Lou shook his head as the commander replied, “Board is here, didn’t come from us.”

“Can you get back in?” the Sergeant pressed.

“Trying, Boss, but the hack’s from off-site,” Lou reported.

The commander’s frustration rang. “Should be pretty much impossible, but somehow they did it.”

Frowning, Parker speculated, “Maybe they knew the system. An inside job maybe?”

Over the comm, Ed grumbled, “If they’re good enough to do this.”

“What went wrong?” Sam finished. “Why’d the alarm go off?”

“The alarm wasn’t triggered from inside,” the commander informed the two SRU cops. “That was set off remotely too.”

Lou froze mid-keystroke and Greg jerked back in surprise. “What?” Calculation flew behind hazel an instant, then the Sergeant keyed his radio. “Guys, the gate alarm that triggered all this was set off deliberately, from the outside.”

Confused, Jules asked, “Why would they blow the whistle on themselves?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Sam agreed.

“Boss, eyes?” Ed inquired.

The Sergeant traded glances with his constable, who shook his head. “Still blind, buddy.”

* * * * *

Spike was acutely aware of the two subjects looming over each shoulder. On the _other_ hand, he knew what the next demand would be – in fact, he was _counting_ on it.

“They’re not gonna have time,” David murmured.

“You need to slow your guys down,” Albin barked.

“I know.” A new command slid into the depot’s alarm system. _Come on, guys. Come and get me._

* * * * *

In the evidence depot, the alarm wailed in fresh affront. Above the noise, Ed yelled, “Boss, what’s that?”

Turning from his spot right at Lou’s shoulder, Greg asked the commander, “What is that?”

Glancing over at the map, the commander replied, “It’s number three. Southwest quadrant.”

Striding over to the map, Greg inspected the alarm’s location. “Looks like an exit, Eddie.”

Confused, Wordy remarked, “I thought all the alarms were cut.”

Sam flicked a glance back at him. “There’s fifty of them. Maybe the bad guys missed one.”

Their team leader dismissed the speculation, “Jules, Wordy, check it out. Sam.”

As two of their team fell back, heading for the alarm, Ed and Sam advanced into the evidence locker, weapons at the ready.

* * * * *

“They’re splitting up,” Albin breathed, watching the screen.

Calmly, with no hint of his _real_ plan, Spike replied, “Chasing ghosts. They won’t get anywhere near your guys, I promise.”

* * * * *

Wordy hustled towards the exit, Jules a steady presence at his back. Without hesitation, the brunet kicked open the door, leveling his weapon at the staircase beyond. Nothing.

“False alarm,” he reported, tone grim.

Above them, the alarm halted, drawing surprised glances.

“Boss, is that you?” Jules asked.

“Not us,” Sarge replied at once.

As if on cue, the alarm let out a new wail.

* * * * *

“Another alarm, Eddie. Looks like the other side of the building. What’s your take on this?”

Ed shook his head in bewilderment as he and Sam made their way through the forest of shelves stacked with evidence boxes. “So far, the evidence locker’s clear.”

“They must’ve split up, headed in opposite directions,” Sam suggested.

Their boss was skeptical. “That would take some serious coordinating to do that.”

As they reached another row of shelves, Sam’s gaze fell on a problem. “Ed.”

Lowering his weapon, the blond sniper stalked towards three evidence boxes that had been left abandoned on the floor. Behind him, his team leader observed, “Coming in here took that already.”

“So, what were they after?” the Boss asked.

Kneeling down and inspecting the boxes, Sam replied, “Okay, Boss, we have three evidence boxes that’ve been tampered with.”

“Evidence log,” the Boss murmured. Louder, “Stand by.” Over the comm, both men heard their Sergeant scramble for a pen and paper. A soft click preceded his grim, “Go ahead.”

Tilting the boxes up, Sam read, “Case number 25146, 25143, 24932.”

Their boss murmured to himself as he wrote, then Sam heard him ask the depot’s commander, “You got an evidence log?”

The response rang loud and clear – either the Boss or Lou had tuned their radio to let the commander speak directly to the whole team. “First one gang bust. We were holding C-4 explosive and detonators. Next one, five-hundred rounds, hollow-point rounds.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed as he cut in. “We gotta stop these guys now. They make it to an exit, they’ll shoot their way through our guys. The place will be a bloodbath.”

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” the Boss agreed, “but you could get that on the street. You don’t need to break into a depot for that stuff.”

“Last one’s Karl Morse case. Twenty kilos uncut heroin. Big bust from last year. Scheduled for incineration today.”

_Bingo,_ Sam realized, trading a grim look with his team leader.

* * * * *

As Wordy and Jules reached the second alarm, it halted above them. “We’re going in circles,” Wordy protested, glancing up at the silent device and casting it the glare he wanted to level at their subjects. Even as he glared, the alarm went off yet again.

Jules’ voice went icy. “Boss, they’re playing with us.”

Their team leader clearly agreed. “Boss, what is it? Two exits from here?”

“Yeah, Ed. Yeah, the one you came in on. And one on the other side.”

“No way they passed us in the hall,” Sam hissed.

After a moment’s debate, Ed ordered, “All right, we regroup on the far side. We gotta get these guys before they make it to the perimeter.”

* * * * *

Greg loomed over Lou and the white-haired commander, watching both men fight to regain control. “How we doing with cameras?”

“I’m locked out,” the commander replied.

“Same,” Lou agreed. “If Spike was here…”

“I hear you, Lou; he’ll turn up,” Greg soothed even as he shifted to inspect the map once more. Instinct prickled, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up – and he _saw_ it. Saw all the false alarms and felt the pieces _click_.

Softly, grimly, he whispered, “Eddie.” No, no, this _wasn’t_ happening. Not again.

“Boss?”

“Alarms 3, 49, 6. Three-four-nine-six.”

Realization dawned in Ed’s reply. “That’s Spike’s badge number.”

Greg’s eyes fell on the alarms that terrified him most. “And then 10, 33.”

“Officer in need of assistance,” Sam blurted.

“We gotta find Spike fast,” Ed rapped out.

“Unless this is Spike’s work,” Jules pointed out, “because only an inside guy can hack into the system.”

“Then set off an alarm intentionally,” Wordy hissed, fierce pride in their teammate ringing.

“To get his team here,” Ed agreed.

“Okay, obviously he’s under duress. We need to locate him ASAP. Okay, guys, who talked to him last?” Even as he spoke, Greg reached inwards, gripping his link to Spike. All this time, he’d been expecting _Spike_ to send _him_ something, but if Spike had _tried_ while he’d had the ‘team sense’ off, then there was no reason for Spike to keep trying. Not unless _he_ let Spike know the ‘team sense’ was back online.

For a moment, he hesitated, then the Sergeant channeled a sense of protectiveness and determination through the ‘team sense’, silently willing Spike to pick up on _his_ emotions and send him something back.

“Boss, Spike had a couple calls today,” Sam reported. “Check the auto-transcriptor, maybe we can get at least his half of the conversation.”

“All right, that’s good,” Greg agreed. “Winnie, you take that.”

As Winnie acknowledged with a brisk, “Copy that,” Greg’s ‘team sense’ came to life. Distress and an insistent plea for backup shot through the Sergeant.

Greg nodded to himself, sending back a pulse of reassurance. _Hold on, Spike; we’re coming. We’re coming._

Over the comm he heard Wordy yell, “Police! Stop right there! Right there!”

* * * * *

As soon as he felt protectiveness and determination surge from the part of himself that was _really_ the Boss, Spike knew they’d figured it out. Knew his team was coming for him. He squashed the glee and focused on the reality of his situation. Distress and his demand for _backup_ sailed through the ‘team sense’, reaching its destination without even a blip of trouble. Reassurance hummed – they were coming and they’d _never_ give up on him.

Stifling any sign of victory, Spike’s attention returned to the subjects’ computer – and he stiffened again. The two dots that marked the bagmen’s location weren’t moving. Over his shoulder, David demanded, “Guys, what the heck are you doing?”

When David smiled at the reply, the bomb tech felt a chill go up his spine.

“C-4. Good idea.”

Fresh panic rose, coupled with horror. “No, that’s a bad idea. That stuff, it’s really unstable.”

“He’s worked with it before, he knows what he’s doing,” David replied.

_No, no, no, bad, bad, bad._ Desperate, Spike babbled, “No, listen, there’s another route. Close… They’re like almost outside. Listen to me, David--”

“Shut up!” Albin spat.

Smug, David said, “Guys, just do what you have to do. Just do it fast.”

No. Please no. They couldn’t die on him; he couldn’t _get them killed_. Staring at the screen in mute horror, Spike gathered up every last drop of his terror and slammed it through the ‘team sense’.

_Get them outta there, Boss!_


	5. So We Meet Again, Auror Scarlatti

Raw terror and panic squeezed his chest, Spike practically _screaming_ his distress. Greg kept his breathing steady with an iron effort, though his constable’s fear _surely_ shone in his eyes. Something was wrong, very, very wrong, but what? He reached for his link to Spike, trying to figure out what his teammate was panicking about, but the bomb tech’s distress was so acute, he never felt the probing emotional ‘query’.

* * * * *

“David, no,” Spike begged. _Please don’t kill them._ “You don’t have to do this. Listen to me, David.”

The subject didn’t even glance at him. “Almost there. They’re just outside the door. Wait for it.”

On the screen, his team’s dots entered the booby-trapped room. _Please, no. Boss, get them outta there!_ Involuntarily, his eyes darted towards where he’d seen that suspicious shimmer.

“Please, David, no.” He was begging, groveling, and he didn’t care. _Don’t let it happen. Don’t let me kill them._

“Almost--”

“No. David, stop.” _Please, God, no. Don’t let them die because of_ me _._

“One more second.”

“David, stop. Don’t do it!” _Boss? Aslan? Somebody_ do _something! Please, guys, get outta there! Please…_

“Almost…”

“No!”

“Do it. Do it now.”

Natalie screamed behind her gag as the bomb tech howled a futile, “No! No!”

* * * * *

The explosion echoed, slamming Greg from three sides. Through the ‘team sense’, through his comm…and through Spike’s helpless grief and despair. He staggered, Lou reeling as well.

Fighting past his anguish, Greg channeled every last bit of magic he had through his links. “Eddie! Anyone? Status? Team One, somebody talk to me!”

“They’re gone,” Lou whispered.

Spike’s distant agreement echoed in Greg’s head; the raw agony, the endless horror – grief so crippling that Parker knew, with all his heart, that Spike _believed_ his teammates were dead.

Denial surged. No, no, they weren’t gone. They _couldn’t_ be gone, he wouldn’t _let_ them be gone.

* * * * *

Spike stared at the computer screen as his teammates’ dots vanished. Grief, overwhelming and total, consumed him. They were gone; it was over. His cuffs kept him from huddling in on himself, but what did that matter? His team was gone; his family, his reason for existing. They were gone. How long would Sarge last without four of his anchors? And once Sarge was gone, all that would be left was Lou. Tears threatened, but he was too numb to cry. Too numb to do anything but stare at his teammates’ grave.

Distantly, he heard David yell, “Hey. Hey, hey, hey!”

“Why did you do that?” Spike asked, numbness growing to encompass his whole world. “I did everything that you wanted.”

“It’s not over,” David growled.

“It is for me.” It was; he no longer _cared_ if they killed him – at least then he’d be with his teammates. With his Papá.

“Get them out.”

If he hadn’t been so _numb_ , he would’ve laughed. “Why should I? You already killed four cops, what else can you do?”

David grabbed his gun, but Spike didn’t – _couldn’t_ – care anymore.

“Go ahead, threaten me, it’s done.”

In an instant, David whirled, seizing Natalie and dragging her from her seat. Beneath the gag, she cried out as she was forced to her knees in front of the despondent bomb tech.

“David!” Albin yelled.

Dead brown eyes watched as David drew a knife, bringing it up to Natalie’s throat. His team was gone and nothing mattered any more, not even protecting Natalie Braddock.

“David!” Albin yelled again. “David, let’s get out of here.”

Wild-eyed, David snarled, “Finish what you started. Finish what you started!”

But he couldn’t. His team was gone. He saw Natalie’s fear and desperation, but he was too broken to respond.

He saw David’s knife rise, heard Natalie scream through her gag, but he still couldn’t do anything. All he could register was the explosion he hadn’t even heard, ripping through his teammates’ helpless forms.

“ _Expelliarmus_.” The knife yanked itself out of David’s hand, flying to the wizard who’d just revealed himself. The wand snapped sideways. “ _Stupefy!_ ” the wizard hissed as he strode forward, dropping Albin before he could even reach for his weapon.

David twisted around, fury pulsing as he grabbed his gun.

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” the wizard cast again wryly, smirking as David’s second weapon took flight. He halted, wand raised and pointed between the criminal’s eyebrows. “I believe that’s quite enough out of you, Mr. Fleming,” he announced calmly. Without twitching his wand away from his target, he glanced at Spike. “So we meet again, Auror Scarlatti.”

“Auror?” David echoed, caught off guard by a word he’d never heard before.

“A word of advice, _Muggle_ ,” the wizard sneered. “ _Never_ target Team One if you value your miserable _life_ ; what they cannot do themselves, they have _allies_ for.”

“They’re gone,” Spike rasped out. “He killed them.”

“ _Incarcerous_.” Ropes bound David from head to toe; he toppled and landed on his nose, letting out a muffled howl of pain.

The brown-haired wizard nudged an errant lock out of his eyes as he turned towards Spike. **“You should give your teammates more credit,** Auror Scarlatti.” A shy smile peeked through and he pointed to the computer screen.

Hardly daring to hope, Spike followed the wizard’s gesture.

* * * * *

“Team One, talk to me! Come on.” Magic sang down the links, demanding a response, but Greg couldn’t find it in himself to care. The links were still _there_ , so…

Hazel closed in raw relief as hacking rose from the comm. “Boss, no harm,” Ed rasped. “Sam got us out in time, he got the door closed.”

Parker let himself slump and reached for Spike’s link, still throbbing with grief and a dangerous numbness. “It’s good to hear,” he said as he channeled his relief, joy, and reassurance in Spike’s direction. _They’re alive; we’re still coming for you, buddy._

Over the comm, he heard metal screech. “There’s debris, but we can get through,” Wordy announced.

Focusing back on the hunt, Greg informed his team, “Okay, you got an exit, east wing hall. One flight up.”

Ed slid into the gap. “Okay, Sam, Jules, circle around from the outside. Word, you and me. Okay, me and you here. Slow and careful.”

“Let’s get ‘em,” Wordy agreed, fierce, defiant, and unbroken.

* * * * *

Spike’s jaw dropped as his teammates’ dots reappeared on the screen. Joy and determination flared to life within him; without skipping a beat, he reached forward, inputting commands so swiftly that the computer whined in protest. A brief snarl erupted and he set another alarm off, right above where the bagmen were. Another command reset the gates, all but the ones his teammates needed. A third command restored the evidence depot’s camera view.

* * * * *

The alarm went off yet again, drawing glares from the three officers in the monitor room. Then the computer in front of Lou hummed and the monitors went dark.

“Boss!” Lou called, eyes widening as the security cameras came back online all at once, crisp and clear with no static or blurring whatsoever.

“What is he _doing_?” Greg hissed.

“Boss, which alarm?” Ed demanded.

The Sergeant looked again. “Eddie, it’s the one we thought it was.”

“Gates have been reset,” Lou reported. “All but the ones we need.” Fear gleamed. “Boss, it’s _gotta_ be Spike.”

“I hear you, Lou,” Greg agreed softly. To be so openly defying his captors…Spike was angling straight for an early grave. The Sergeant closed his eyes. If Spike _believed_ his teammates were dead…that would explain the worrying numbness. Spike wasn’t _trying_ to stay alive any more.

* * * * *

The wizard chuckled softly. “I see you have it well in hand, Auror Scarlatti.”

Glancing up, Spike let his eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you do something sooner?”

One shoulder hiked. “It was plain that you had a plan, Auror Scarlatti and scarce needed _my_ assistance.” Casually, the wizard flicked his wand, releasing the runic cuffs. Another flick severed the band around Spike’s arms, giving him back full mobility.

“Thanks,” the bomb tech breathed.

“Certainly,” the dark-haired wizard agreed. Blue eyes cast a contemptuous glare at David and the unconscious Albin, then the wizard inclined his head. “Fare thee well, Auror Scarlatti.”

“Oy!” Spike yelled before the wizard could Disapparate. “I can’t cover both of these guys by _myself_ , Revan!”

The wizard froze, jaw dropping open as he gawped at the SRU constable. “What did you call me?”


	6. Who Else Could You Be?

Over the comm, Winnie announced, “Team One, I’ve got Spike’s last phone conversation from the auto-transcriptor.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed. “Give it to us, Winnie!”

The dispatcher audibly hesitated. “Okay, I was only able to get his half, so I’m not sure how much sense this is gonna make.” Parker nodded, accepting the caveat. “It starts, ‘Hey, it still isn’t you.’ Then, ‘I can come by after shift.’ Then, ‘Who’s David?’ Then, ‘Get you? Nat, you in trouble? I’ll get Sam.’ ”

“Natalie,” Sam hissed, fear and horror racing through the ‘team sense’; Greg winced and toned down his access to the rest of his team. At this point, he only wanted to know what _Spike_ was feeling, but unfortunately, the bomb tech wasn’t broadcasting any more.

“Who’s David?” Jules asked.

Leashed fury rang. “I know him. He’s trouble. What else did Natalie say?”

“Spike was getting directions,” Winnie informed the team. “He said, ‘That’s near Witchwood, right?’ ”

“Well, it narrows it down to a neighborhood,” Ed mused.

Greg analyzed his link to Spike for a split second. The direction felt right. “Okay, it’s a place to start. I’m on my way. Winnie, you get me some more by the time I get there.”

“Boss, I’m coming with you,” Sam declared.

Parker paused, frowning. “Sam, can you do this with me?” _Can you control yourself?_

“She’s my sister.”

Ed stepped in, his orders reflecting his opinion. “Okay, Sam, you’re with the Boss. Lou, stick with the command post – tell us where we’re going. Jules, Wordy, you’re with me.”

“Copy, Ed,” Lou agreed as his boss strode out of the monitor room. “Spike’s got ‘em pinned. They’re not getting out of here.”

* * * * *

“Well, who _else_ could you be?” Spike asked, his tone pointed. “Who _else_ would know all that stuff about Giles?”

Blue eyes narrowed. “There are many who know what Auror Onasi went through, Auror Scarlatti.”

“Sure they know, but every last _detail_ , Revan?” The bomb tech flipped a hand. “Cellar torture chamber, sure; your little hidey-hole outside of Toronto, sure, but who knew about the ambush? Who knew about the waterfall and all those suicide attempts?” Spike turned away from the computer, meeting Revan’s eyes. “Who would bring it up over a _decade_ later?”

At that, Revan looked away.

“Did you think you were helping him?” Spike demanded, expression going hard. “Did you think he _forgot_?”

“I wished to help him face it. So he could let it go.”

“Let it go?” Spike echoed incredulously. “Let it _go_? He _relives_ it every _night_ , Revan! If it weren’t for Sam and Sarge…” He trailed off, shaking his head in amazement. “Make yourself useful and get that ducktape off Natalie.”

* * * * *

Greg split his focus between Spike and Sam as the blond sniper drove the truck towards Witchwood. “Natalie was traveling for three years,” Sam explained. “She had her freedom, she was happy, you know?”

Parker nodded once, urging Sam on.

“And the day she’s coming home, there was a call from Bogota, she’s in jail. Apparently she’s unaware that this guy she met, David, had packed her suitcase with heroin.”

Greg allowed a silent whistle; drug smuggling, not good.

“Luckily for her,” Sam continued, “his fingerprints were all over the place. So the General pulled every string he had. As long as she testified against him, the charges would be dropped.”

“Natalie told you this?”

Sam arched one shoulder. “Part Nat and part our aunt,” he admitted. “Nat opened up to her more than me, but she gave me all the details later after Nat left.”

Greg frowned that Natalie had been more willing to trust an aunt she’d never met before than her own brother, but moved on. “There’s no love lost between this David and Natalie, then.”

“I’m guessing he’d be happy to see her out of the picture,” Sam confirmed.

Grim, the Sergeant nudged at Spike through the link – his constable was playing a very dangerous game and if he still thought his teammates were dead… “Hey, Eddie, we have to stall for time. We need them to need Spike alive.”

“Copy that,” Ed acknowledged.

* * * * *

“If it weren’t for Auror Sergeant Parker and Auror Braddock?” Revan echoed, confusion blazing. “What happened?”

“Like you care,” Spike flared back. “You let him think you were _dead_ , Revan! Over a decade and _now_ you come sniffing around? No, you didn’t even do _that_ ; you snuck in behind his back so you could play hero.”

“I was not _playing_ ,” Revan retorted. “He does not need me anymore.”

Spike stood up so fast Natalie jumped. “Doesn’t _need_ you anymore? Are you _kidding_ me? In case you _missed_ it, Revan, he _saw you die!_ You know what that does to someone?” He sniffed, pushing back old pain and forcing the words out. “It rips you up, Revan, tears a chunk of your _soul_ out. You stare at where they _were_ and you _know_ ; they’re not coming home. They’re _gone_ and it’s all _your_ fault. You weren’t fast enough, smart enough, _good_ enough to keep them alive.” He swallowed harshly. “And you know what, Revan? You know, in your heart, you’d do _anything_ to have them back.”

Revan stared at him, dumbfounded. Then pain raced across the wizard’s face. “He has a new partner; he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“You’re wrong,” Spike blurted. “He needs you every day; just like he needs Morgana and Dustil and Brian, but he can’t have them. He can’t have _you_.” _Because he thinks you’re dead._

For a long minute, wizard and constable stared at each other. Then Revan dropped his gaze. “What did Giles do?” Fear trembled, but it was muted, almost as if Revan didn’t understand his own emotions. Didn’t know how to deal with them.

“Just about ate his gun,” Spike replied flatly. “Sam stopped him that night, then Sarge caught him a couple weeks later. Sarge _still_ won’t let him carry off-duty – says he’s still too close.”

Revan blanched, terror radiating as he began to tremble; the full weight of his actions finally sank in, leaving the wizard all but gibbering in horror. Spike shook his head again, then made his way to his phone, scooping it up.

SITUATION CONTAINED  
SUBJECTS DOWN  
BRING GILES,  
HE NEEDS TO SEE THIS  
-SPIKE

Pressing the send button, Spike turned back to the wizard. “Don’t you _dare_ run away _this_ time, Revan.”

Haunted blue eyes met his dark ones. “I will not, Auror Scarlatti. You have my word of honor.”


	7. I Saw You Die!

Greg’s phone buzzed and he snapped it up, thumbing the power button. He read the screen once, twice, then sagged in pure relief. “Message from Spike, guys.”

“He’s okay?” Lou demanded.

“Yeah, Lou; according to him, situation is contained and our primary subjects are down. Ed, go ahead and take the others down.”

“Copy that, Boss,” Ed acknowledged. “Word, Jules, go around and pin ‘em from the other side.”

“Copy,” both constables replied.

Frowning, Greg reviewed the message. “Winnie, put in a call to Giles; Spike’s requesting his presence at the Witchwood location.”

“On it,” Winnie agreed.

“Any idea why?” Sam asked.

The Sergeant shook his head. “All Spike said was that Giles needs to see something, Sam.” Leaning forward, he added, “Let’s see if we can get there first.”

“Copy.” The sniper pressed down on the accelerator, swooping around the next turn with racecar driver precision.

* * * * *

Spike was waiting for them outside the subject location, expression grim and eyes shadowed. Greg hesitated long enough for Sam to bring the truck to a halt, then scrambled out of the truck, arrowing straight for his constable. Hazel narrowed at the line of red on Spike’s mouth, then narrowed even further when he was able to reach out and tip the bomb tech’s chin up without any reaction from his constable. Gryphon vision analyzed the injuries for a moment before he pulled his hand away.

“Spike?”

“I’m okay, Boss.”

Parker opted not to dispute the obvious lie. “Situation?”

“Contained, like I said.”

“But?”

Guilt flashed. “You remember when me ‘n’ Wordy got rescued from that factory?”

“Sure,” Sam put in. “Wait…that guy’s _back_?”

Spike nodded.

“Shoulda called _Roy_ , not Giles,” Sam grumbled. “He wanted a shot at that guy.”

“Yeah and then Giles would’ve taken all our heads off,” Spike retorted.

Greg blinked. “Spike?”

The bomb tech shook his head and turned to lead the way inside. Greg and Sam followed after trading confused glances; what was wrong? As they climbed the stairs, Parker felt his magic lurch, like calling to like. But it didn’t feel like either Lance or Alanna…

The home was sparse, but well furnished; the officers paid scant attention as Sam hurried to Natalie, pulling his sister up into a hug. Greg’s eyes darted around the room, pausing on the computer and two bound men on the floor; he cast both men lethal glares. They’d tried to take one of his _own_ and the Sergeant harbored no illusions as to Spike’s ultimate fate if he’d remained in their custody.

Dismissing the subjects, Parker turned his gaze on the final occupant of the room, a wizard clad in Unspeakable robes trimmed with silver runes. Dark blue eyes met his for an instant before the brunet ducked his head.

“Boss, Sam,” Spike said, “this is Revan.”

Sam swore and Greg’s jaw dropped open.

* * * * *

“ _You_.” Giles Onasi hissed, fists clenching.

Revan paled, but tilted his chin up. “Me,” he confirmed softly, the slightest tremble in the word.

Fist impacted flesh, sending Revan hurtling to the ground. “ _I saw you die!_ ” Giles screamed. Rage glowed. “I don’t believe it; I _saw your body!_ Merlin’s _beard_ , I _buried_ you! They let me out of St. Mungo’s for the _funeral_ and now _here you are!_ ” Shaking, the Auror halted, tremors of grief, realization, and fury mixing. “Did you laugh?” he demanded suddenly.

The fallen man paled, shaking his head and babbling denials.

Giles ignored them. “Bet that was a _real_ riot for you and your Unspeakable buddies,” he snarled. “Watching me _rip_ myself apart over a man who wasn’t _even dead!_ ”

“Giles, no,” Revan pleaded, scrambling back to his feet. “I _never_ laughed at you. You didn’t _need_ me anymore.” Onasi froze, attention locking on his former partner. Licking his lips, Revan continued, “You moved on, Giles. You got a new partner. A _better_ partner. You didn’t need me ruining that. That’s why…that’s why I wanted them to know what happened. So they could help you forget me.”

Without warning, Giles lashed out again, unleashing a roar of utter despair as he landed his blow, hitting Revan so hard that the younger man was thrown into the chair Spike had been handcuffed to. Around the men, the moment hung, Team One, Natalie, and even the two subjects gaping at the conflict. Panting, Onasi stared at his onetime partner, the rage draining away into grief so acute that it seemed to rend the fabric of reality.

“I saw you die,” he whispered. “So stay dead.”

Without another word, the Auror turned on his heel and Disapparated with a sharp _crack_.

* * * * *

Spike edged over to the Unspeakable, ignoring the bruises already darkening Revan’s eye and chin. Lost blue eyes rose to him, but the Unspeakable remained silent. Bewildered. As though he had no idea why Giles had reacted so badly.

“Revan?” the bomb tech asked carefully. “Who was your very first friend?”

Sorrow shone in those dark blue eyes, right along with grief and loss. “Giles,” Revan whispered.

The room rocked once more, even the two subjects astonished by the Unspeakable’s reply.

Spike lifted his gaze up to his boss, both of them grasping what had happened. Then Spike returned his attention to Revan. “He never forgot you, Revan, and you’re still his friend.”

“I am?” Confusion rang.

The bomb tech nodded. “Sure you are; that’s why he’s so mad right now.”

“It is?”

“You don’t get mad like that at someone you don’t care about,” Lou put in over Spike’s shoulder.

“Well, maybe an archenemy,” Spike mused.

Lou swatted his best friend without looking away from Revan. “Knock it off, Scarlatti.” Ignoring Spike’s mock affront, he said, “Right now, Giles is mad ‘cause you hurt him. You left and let him go on thinking you were _dead_ for over a _decade_. Then you go and drag everything back up again, right when he’s spent all those years burying it as deep as he can.”

“And you didn’t come forward yourself,” Wordy tacked on. “If Spike hadn’t made you stay today, you wouldn’t have. He knows that, too.”

“But he can’t move on,” Revan protested. “If he buries what happened, it will always be there.” Rubbing at his eyes, the Unspeakable dropped his gaze. “And he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Wrong.” Revan’s head shot up at Sam’s flat denial. The blond sniper shook his head. “Revan, even if he gets it all out, talks about what happened for the _rest_ of his life, it’s still gonna be there. You can’t change the past. Or forget it.”

“And friendship isn’t about someone needing you or not needing you,” Jules put in smoothly. “Revan, once you two were friends, that was it. No do-overs, no takebacks; you were _friends_. Just because Giles moved on didn’t mean your friendship got replaced. It _can’t_ be; that’s _your_ friendship. No other friendship will ever be like it.”

“You can’t force things either,” Parker interjected. “Revan, Giles wasn’t at a point where he was capable of dealing with what happened to his family or what happened to you. You tried to _force_ him to deal with it because that’s what worked back when you first met him.”

Unconsciously, Revan nodded.

The Sergeant sighed, running a hand over his head. “It might’ve worked back then, Revan, but at that point, he hadn’t lost _you_ , too. He hadn’t lost Brian or nearly lost his new partner, either. You can only push a man so far before he pushes back.” He paused, studying the Unspeakable. “My team is right; you disappeared for over a decade. Why come back now?”

Revan’s shoulders hunched. “He’s my friend,” the brunet whispered. “I couldn’t let him lose anyone else.” Shuddering, he met Parker’s eyes. “I did whatever I had to, to protect those he cared about.”

Startled, the officers traded glances. Then Spike asked, “What about those _you_ care about, Revan?”

The slumped man managed a shrug. “Don’t have anyone else,” he mumbled. “I don’t even have as much Wild Magic as Mum did.” Oblivious to the sharp breaths around him, Revan huddled into himself. “They were mad when Mum died, said she must’ve done something to make sure I didn’t get her magic.”

“Who was your mother?” Lou asked, speaking for his mute-with-horror boss.

Revan’s head curled up, eyes blank with remembered pain. “The Fox. They called her the Chartreuse Fox. I never knew her real name.”

Lou drew breath, then stopped at his boss’s curt gesture. Gingerly, Parker approached Revan, crouching down to meet his eyes. “What happened after your mother died, Revan?”

Another limp shrug. “They sent me here. Unspeakable Croaker said the Canadians could get some use out of me and good riddance. He wanted a _real_ Wild Mage, not a wizard _pretending_ to be a Wild Mage.”

“Then they sent you to the Auror Division?” Sam asked.

Without looking up, Revan nodded. “Giles impressed them; he wouldn’t turn on his Oath to protect and serve, even after Morgana died. They told me he was too valuable to lose.” A tear snuck down his face. “They even gave me something of Mum’s to take with me.”

Parker waved his team quiet before any more questions could be asked. “Okay, you’re going to come with us and we’re going to get both Giles and Roy over to the barn so you can do this all at once. Get it all out, then we figure out what comes next.”

Confused blue blinked at the Sergeant. “I’m supposed to check in,” Revan mumbled.

“Not today, buddy,” Spike replied.

“Maybe not ever,” Lou agreed.

“But…I’m an Unspeakable.”

Spike shook his head firmly. “No, Revan, you’re one of _us_ now and we don’t leave teammates behind.”

“Absolutely correct, Constable Scarlatti,” Sergeant Parker concurred, angling a deadly glare towards the two men who’d kidnapped his constable and another constable’s sister.

Feeling the force of that glare, David glanced up, intending to return the favor, only to freeze as Parker’s eyes narrowed, a predatory shimmer in hazel irises. In that moment, the criminal realized that if he’d succeeded, it never would’ve been over. The stocky police Sergeant would’ve tracked him to the ends of the Earth to avenge his fallen constable.

* * * * *

After a long minute, Greg stepped back and turned his attention to his team leader, gesturing once. Ed dragged the two subjects out of the room at his boss’s silent order, keeping his frown to himself. Aside from the moments surrounding the explosion, Greg had gone out of his way to avoid verbalized orders, depending on Team One’s ability to infer and read between the lines. Worse, his friend was starting to pull back, pulling away from his teammates as though he felt separated from them. Aloof and alienated.

Trouble was, Ed wasn’t sure if this was yet another thing to worry about or just Greg trying to improve the team’s standing with Toth. Though he hoped it was the latter, a growing part of him very much believed it was the former. But if there _was_ something wrong with Greg, then what was it? And how could they fix it?

_~Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *curtain drop* *Cue ending _Flashpoint_ music* As always, I hope everyone enjoyed the latest installment of my series. Our subjects may not be _happy_ , but unbeknownst to them, one of them didn't end up dead and another didn't end up shot, which would both be good things, even if they're on their way to jail. And Spike got to reverse the hack even more than he did in canon, thanks to Revan's intervention.
> 
> So, again, I hope everyone enjoyed and please do leave a comment if you have time. Doesn't even have to be much, but I do so adore comments and I will respond to each signed review.
> 
> Ahem...moving on. Rather than heading for the next story in the main 'It's a Magical Flashpoint' series, we are going to take a brief detour off the beaten track to a Side-Story that is very much involved with the aftermath of this particular case, but which I felt wasn't _directly_ part of the main storyline. So, without further ado, we will be starting the Side-Story "I Don't Have Friends" this Friday, July 24th 2020.
> 
> On a Real Life note, I am continuing to work at my current job, but I've also updated my LinkedIn page to hopefully attract recruiters. I've looked at job postings, but most of them have a huge list of things a candidate 'must have', most of which I _don't_ , so I get intimidated and scared off. So I guess my prayer request is two-fold: Please pray that I would continue to be a dedicated worker in my current job, but also pray that the Lord will give me a new job soon.
> 
> In turn, I pray that all of you who are searching for jobs or maybe are having trouble with _your_ jobs would have the help, strength, and guidance you need from the Lord. May He grant each of you a good day and a great week.
> 
> See You on the Battlefield!


End file.
